Still Innocent
by Aislin Iona
Summary: Would death save them? The mother of Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa watches over her sleeping children.


Disclaimer: Everything to do with Harry Potter belongs to JKRowling

A/N- I can't remember Sirius' mothers name being mentioned in the books so I called her Cecilia. If I am wrong please correct me.

I want to improve my writing so constructive criticism would be helpful...please.

Still Innocent  
  
Within their world the skeletons in the closet are real, their nightmares come true, they are captures of the devils snare, lost in the ebony night. They are curled together as one, to find comfort after the daystar has faded.  
  
Bellatrix. Bella for beauty, Bellatrix one of Orians brightest stars. She is a star, a guide to her sisters for she knows the terrors of which they will suffer...she has already suffered them.  
  
She is the eldest in a generation of our family, she will be the first to leave beyond my reach, but shall not be one to crumble. Though she is young in years glimmers of her elegance shimmer. She shall be envied. She is a true Black child.  
  
Her belief is that her hair is her prized possession, a waterfall of willow branches cascading upon her shoulders, a cloak of midnight when all stars were dead, but it is only one part of her puzzle. Her eyes are like bloodstone, velvet blackness, except when, alike the sun, you catch them and they gleam, her iris' a bleeding fire. Her eyelashes are a painters brush swept across her cheeks of ivory flesh. Her lips are her colour, crimson silk on which her voice dances.  
  
She has power, her magic is the embers of what will become an inferno. It rages through her, it is felt in her white-hot touch. She will cause pain. She will deceive, her delicate petals blinding her victims from her stem of thorns. I can already hear the screams in her not so golden future.  
  
Andromeda is the strong one...the unwanted one, for she is not her fathers son. She is the lesser one, yet the allure of her heart outweighs her inferior features. Her deep brown hair like autumns fallen and decaying leaves, her eyes like mahogany, their rings of age expelled from her pupils. Her virtues shine through her, her pallid skin illuminated, she, the eternal candle in our midst.  
  
She is my middle child, a rose between the thorns. She is no longer a sister to them, but the mother I never was and never can be.  
  
Andromeda has a gift, a gift neither of her sisters possess. Through her veins runs a power greater than magic and can cause more destruction of the human mind than the unforgivable curses and can create a paradise woven from the silver threads of dreams.  
  
Andromeda has the gift of love, which she gives to all of us but we cannot return, for we do not know how. Yet because we are incapable of love we are preserved and despite her strength, her gift shall be her downfall.  
  
She is an angel in a family of devils, let sweet seraphim watch over her.  
  
Narcissa lies between them like a china doll. Is she as fragile inside? Will the horrors of the family I bore her into destroy her before hope can flourish?  
  
Her eyes glisten like when the sun breaks upon the ocean, but the sun will die and the day will end, then the windows to her soul will become a fractured mirror, cracked.  
  
Her skin is of roses, red and white, soft, radiant, unblemished, but they are blood and bandages and through those bandages the blood shall seep, death drawing nearer.  
  
Her blonde tresses belong to Rapunzel, who was trapped in her tower till love found her. Narcissa shall have no prince. Narcissas golden locks are beauty, to be admired, not loved, and so her rosebud mouth shall never blossom. Will she know this and shatter, glass, shining but irreparable, or will she stand tall, like so many before her? A diamond, strong but lost of all light for it is hidden in darkness.  
  
I was once one of them, my sisters and myself. Four of us slept in a tangle of bed sheets, clutching to the bodies of those beside us. Desperate for warmth as the bitter moon rose.  
  
Quinta made us three, she had been blessed with life as our mothers was taken. Quinta was blessed with death before her hideous ordeal began. Sidonia was the eldest that I knew, her blood was spilled by father. Myrilla was their first-born, her life was lost before ours were found.  
  
A year separates the two surviving sisters, Cecilia and I. I am the failure, the daughter who gave only daughters when Cecilia has a son. A strong boy and another soon to be born.  
  
Cecilia does not remember when the milky orb shone upon us. She has the ending she wished for, to prove that she is the unsurpassed sister. No longer with the dread of when the crystals awoke in the sky and the rest of the world were at peace. She is walking her path blind, lead by the hand of her husband. His brother took me, like the veela his face spoke nothing of his twisted soul inside.  
  
I too am lead but know of the evil we are shrouded in. I have no escape, my daughters have all my hopes, my dreams and my fears.  
  
I fear they will have an eternity in my hell. I hope they will stray from their imprisonment and I dream that they will one-day gain the happiness I have lost.  
  
My aspirations for them shall not become reality. We are the Black family and they will be kept in shadows, in the world of sorrow that they are now blissfully unaware of.  
  
I could save them from despair, let them have a forever sleep, to live in fantasies instead of in life. Would it be merciful to end my children's lives? They are my only joy and the result of my own true evil. I gave them life for it to be stolen, torn from them like they were from my protection.  
  
While they are young they envisage their fairytale ending. They are still innocent and I long for them to remain so.  
  
In the morning they shall wake and the dawn sun shall shine upon them like blood. Like the blood that will always haunt them. It is the same blood that they will marry for, will bear children for, will live for...will die for.


End file.
